Day before yesterday, my feet tingled big time. And the thought which inspired the nerves to go hyper was, boy, oh boy, I am six hours away from the mountain. Bangalore being five hours from Tiruvannamalai. My house being an hour from Bangalore bus station. And that means I live in a space that is six hours from my beloved Arunachala.
Then why oh why am I so concerned with getting the house in order, why do I keep changing the arrangement of the drawing room, why on earth am I waiting for the broadband connection, why don't I get on that bus on which the conductor hangs on the door and yells, Thrvnnamalaai, Thrvnnamalaai, Thrvnamalaai?
Is it time, or is it repetition that erodes vowels out of a word, and urgency out of devotion?